The need to touch
by israelianbabe15
Summary: Again the title says it all. ZIBBS!. I hope you like it. Review please!


A/N: So I decided I'd be a little productive today... so let's write fanfiction... :D

The need to touch.

It had been a long, stressful day. All he wanted to do was go home and work on his boat, maybe drink some bourbon. He didn't feel completely tired, physically, but he didn't want to think anymore. His brain seemed to be the one part of his body that could actually use a time out.

Going to bed wouldn't help. No matter how tired his head was, his mind was still racing. Work, the case, dead Marine, killed by another Marine, witnessed by other Marines who didn't come forward, Starbucks closed, no coffee, office coffee, no real coffee, no sleep, no boat, no food, Dinozzo sick, McGee sent home for sneezing and coughing all over the place, McGee now sick too, Ziva at work, alone with Ziva, interviewing witnesses, with Ziva, interrogations, with Ziva, chasing a suspect, with Ziva, suspect punching Ziva in the face, Ziva's beautiful face, Ziva in the hospital and suspect in custody, taking Ziva home, Ziva coming back to work an hour later, couldn't sleep, the bruise on her face slowly getting darker, Ziva's beautiful face.

At the end of the day, Jethro had sent his agent home again and had to promise her to go home himself. In the elevator down to the parking lot, he touched her face, checking if the bruise was 'really not that bad' – her words. Certainly was bad enough to make her catch her breath when he touched her. Maybe that was not because of the bruise. _Wishful thinking, Jethro, stop it._

He still remembered the feel of her skin against his, her soft cheeks against his palm. Somehow he wanted to feel that again and as much as possible. But he knew that would never happen.

She had driven home at a normal speed, which was not usually her style, but somehow the memory of his hand on her face didn't seem to escape her mind. She could still feel his touch, wanted him to be close to her again. And for some reason, she ended up driving to his place instead of hers. When had she made the decision to go there? Had she even made that decision? The world seemed a little surreal, as if everything was just running on autopilot – no space for decisions.

He was already there. Had driven home at a speed that seemed unusual, even for him – as if running away from the things he had felt, the things Ziva made him feel.

Entering his house, she took in his scent – the scent of wood, coffee and bourbon. It was intoxicating, to say the least, and if there had been a rational thought left in her head, it was certainly gone now.

He was not in the basement yet. She could hear noises from the kitchen. Of course he had made himself some coffee first. Starbucks had been closed all day. Ziva walked into the kitchen, not saying a word, but of course he would have heard her come in – he always did.

He had taken a second cup out for her and was now filling both cups with his favorite hot liquid. If it had been Dinozzo, coming to his house after a day like this, he probably wouldn't have shared the coffee with him. Ziva was different.

They drank their coffee in silence, sitting opposite each other on the small kitchen table without looking at each other. Nobody said a word. What could they say? It's not like their heads were still capable of grasping any kind of complete thought.

When both their cups were empty, Jethro stood up and put them with the other dishes. Ziva followed him to the counter, standing behind him when he turned around. Their eyes only met for a moment. They both seemed to shy away quickly. They were too tired to actually face feelings right now, but somehow acknowledged that there _were_ feelings, from both sides.

Their first kiss was nothing special and yet it still left them both wanting more – so much more.

He had just put a hand on her hip, the other ghosting over her bruise, then gently cupping her face. Drawing her to him, his eyes met hers again, just before they fluttered close. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, that was drenched with need.

When the need for oxygen became stronger than the need for each other, they pulled apart, not opening their eyes. They weren't able to make decisions anymore, just wanted to feel, needed to touch.

ZibbsZibbsZibbsZibbs

The next morning, Ziva woke up in an unfamiliar bed with a strong arm around her keeping her close to the warm body behind her. His manly scent was still strong and calmed her a little – as it always did – yet it also scared her a little. She had just spent the night with her boss.

He had already woken up a moment earlier, his nose buried in the softest hair he had ever touched. Of course it belonged to his Ziver, who else had hair like that.

Lying there with her was too comfortable, too perfect to let her go, so he had tightened his arm around her a little, drawing her even closer, taking in her scent.

She was his agent, but somehow that didn't bother him half as much as it probably should have.

When his arms tightened around her and she felt him snuggle closer, she relaxed a little, realizing that, no matter how 'bad' sleeping with her boss could be considered, she obviously wasn't the only one who would want to do it again.

The End.

A/N: Wah... how did I just write a one-shot? Okay... I hope you liked it! Please review, because reviews make me happy! :D


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